Behind the Fire
by Sareth-the-lost-one
Summary: Lennart lost his grip on the chopper's vats and fell... Will he manage to escape the huge police operation rolling on to find him? Not only in his life everything is out of control. Tells background story for the character & events after the movie's end
1. Chapter 1 down the drain

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Original character Lennart and story setting is not my own - however the details in this story are ;)

**„BEHIND THE FIRE"**

For those who haven't seen the movie: It's about a group of terrorists, who in a nearly military like operation steal a deadly virus and later are trying to escape in a pilgrimage train to Lourdes. The police are on their tail, and a secret organization of the Catholic Church, too. As the police decide to re-route the train, the situation escalates and the terrorists try everything to get off the train and to escape. They do not succeed, and in the end, the leader of the terrorist task force, named Lennart (played by Arnold Vosloo) clings on the vats of a helicopter, which flies directly into the exploding locomotive of the train. So far – not good. I thought there was more to tell!

Attention, this will not be Mary-Sue-Fic! Sorry for the 'weird' names, story takes place in Germany.

***

**=== Near the German-French border / Some railway-depot-area ===**

The chopper continued its erratic flight pattern, lowering and getting dangerously close to the already burning locomotive. Lennart clasped on the vats.

"What are you doin' up there?!" he cried panicking. The helicopter only went further out of control, nearly touching the rails now.

_Fucking shit! _ Lennart let his grip go. He would have lost it anyway in the next few seconds. He fell, and hit something. However, the following explosions swallowed his scream.

…

Pain was the first sensation dropping again in his consciousness, slowly but finally calling attention like the rain falling down on his motionless figure for hours now. Primeval pain, nagging and burning in every cell, every muscle of his body. The air smelled of ashes, acid, chemicals.

_The war… Damned attack… knew this was a trap…have to get out… with my men…_

He tried to get on his knees. The stabbing pain piercing through him the very moment let him fall again instantaneously and catapulted his blurred mind back to alert. It was dark. He was alone. Above him, some wires from the railway system, beneath him partly grass and the gravel of the embankment. No, the war in Angola was over. He was not a soldier anymore. At least not for any kind of official or semi official government or fraction! He was a soldier – and a highly qualified one – for his own purpose. After a few minutes of recovering and regaining some strength, he tried to move again, careful this time. As far as he could see (or better feel in the darkness of the night), he was in pretty bad shape. Moreover, the whole operation was down the drain! He swore, coughed and spat blood. The next check gave him the assurance, that still he had his gun.

_Better that than nothing, eh? Can ponder now if I shoot me or wait until others do it!_

How could this happen, he wondered. He had planned it all through; the plan was perfect! _Well…_ He grinned wryly in the dark, … _it SEEMED perfect! Obviously, the Holy Mother Church had not forgotten her lessons from the time of the crusades and had still some well-trained fighters in their ranks! Lo and behold!_

However, this was not of Lennarts concern right now. He had failed to deliver the cargo, lost his team and equipment. Meant, he had cost his sponsors a lot of money without bringing any profit! Meant the only payment HE would probably get was his own death! His sponsors did not like failure.

He did not know exactly, what had happened, but judging from what he had seen last and the smells around him he concluded, that it must have been major explosions involving chemicals and diesel. Perhaps this whole area was a mess. So far, nothing indicated a police search party under way. Either they already had given up, or they thought him dead as well, died in the explosions. _Small sign of hope… _Nevertheless, he had to get away from here, somehow. Find some shelter. If he would stay any longer in the cold rain in his present condition, he was as good as dead already. Slowly, he struggled to his feet. His right leg hurt, but was stable enough to carry him. He was more concerned about his left arm, which he could not move without agonizing pain washing over him, and his head, from where blood trickled over his face.

In the distance, Lennart could discern the silhouettes of some mansions or warehouses. There was a streetlight, too. He stepped in the direction, hoping not to pass out. It seemed the worst way he ever had managed in his not too calm life so far.

**=== Next day ===**

The boy about 10 walked home his head hanging and hands deep in his pockets. It had been an awful day at school. He had again loused up the math's test. The paper with the clearly marked "5" (kind of 'F' in the US) was in his bag and weighed as much as a big stone. He hated mathematics. He hated school. He hated everything. Stepping lazily through a mud puddle, the boy mused, how he could dispose of the paper. He did not want to show it, or found it somehow by his mother. She would be worried again about him, saying he would end up like his father – in jail - and then drink again. While drunk, she said many nasty things about killing herself or giving him into a children's home, or that she had been crazy to have a child anyway. He run away one time, but the police sent him back.

The boy stopped near the railway. Last night, there had been a major incident with a train, they said in school, but nothing more specific. Perhaps he would go over this afternoon, to see some gorgeous wreckage! He liked that stuff from TV and the computer games of one of his friends. Lots of action and explosions, and the hero stepping out of the mess afterwards…

_The math's test…_

The boy looked around. One of the old warehouses caught his view. _Best place to get rid of the paper,_ he thought, and already searched for his lighter. His mother did not know he had one.

…

Lennart had used the first hours of daylight to check his injuries and to tend them as best as he could, given the circumstances. He had been a Special Forces soldier and was experienced in survival training. Nonetheless, his left arm was broken at least two times and he could not apply a proper splint with one hand. He had to find medical assistance. However, for that purpose he had to come up with some sort of cover story first! To enforce help with his gun would only alarm the authorities. During the considerations he fell asleep – or passed out, he could not determine that.

Anyway, he woke up from the noise of a cracking door and footsteps. He peered past the wooden barrel, behind which he had took cover. There was a boy! Only a little boy! But… little boys could inform their parents, and parents could inform the police…

The child took something from his bag, trampled on it and then procured a lighter out of his pocket. At this moment, a pigeon flew off. The eyes of the boy followed the fat bird through the woodwork and down – and rested on Lennart, who had not been fast enough to recede. They stared at each other, frozen.

The man grasped his concealed weapon firmly. _Shit. I cannot shoot a child!_

Then the boy said reluctantly "Hello."

"Hello." Lennart forced himself to smile.

The boy walked closer, curiously regarding the stranger. "Are you sleeping in here?"

_He seems to think I am some sort of hobo… okay, not bad… might get away with this… _"From time to time. Was too rainy outside you know?"

"Yeah. Have you heard what was going on last night in the railway depot? Other kids said there was an incident with a locomotive!"

"Heard nothing. You will read it in the newspaper, probably." _Just go away, go away, dammit!_

"You speak weird. Where do you come from?"

_God wanted to punish the world with children never stopping asking questions!_ "France", Lennart lied. He hoped to scare the boy away with monosyllabic answers, but this wish did not come true. On the contrary.

"France?" The boy said now, beginning to smile and stepping yet closer. "My Dad is from France, too! Said Ma. But I cannot see him anymore, because he is in jail. Ma said he has tried to rob a gas station and hurt some people. I don't remember much of him."

"Look, I'm sorry. But I'm really tired. Please go, okay?"

"You are hurt." The boy made a gesture to his head. "Do you need help?" He began fumbling for a tissue in his pockets.

"I'm fine. It's nothing. I… stumbled across something last night. Nothing serious."

"You were boozy. Ma stumbles also always across something, when she had too much to drink. Last week she fell in the cat's litter box." He sounded as if this was a perfectly normal family life!

Lennart squeezed his eyes. He felt very sick. He needed some rest, not small talk with little children.

The boy did not attempt to leave him, though. "You look worst than my Ma, when she has her hangover. Do you want something to eat? Ma always wants coffee and chocolate. I have an apple and the rest of my sandwich. Had lost my appetite after we got the tests back… I got a "5" again…" He already had unpacked the things from his school bag and put them down next to the man, adding: "I don't like apples anyway!"

"Thank you. Very kind of you." _Now GO AWAY!_

"By the way, I'm Claude. And what is your name?"

…

Christina Hofer cried and cursed altogether, while hitting her old washing machine, which just stopped to function out of nowhere. Why now?! She had no money to let it repair, no money to buy a new one! "Stupid, damned machine!" She kicked against it, of course without effect.

Desperate, she sank on the old kitchen chair. What now? The next miserable unemployment pay was still weeks away! Moreover, there were debts to pay!

_My life is one catastrophe after another_, she thought. When did it begin? When she broke off her education because of the pregnancy, or when she moved in with the father of the child? When he started to drink and do 'things' or when she started to drink to forget it all?

Christina looked up to the watch on the wall. Where was Claude? He was supposed to come home immediately after school, not to hang around with someone! She stood up; shot a short glance in the mirror hanging in the floor. She was nearly 28 now; however, she felt she looked like 40. She poked her tongue out at herself, threw her hair back and went out to see, where her son was.

By the time Claude finally showed up, his mother had drained half of the Vodka-bottle, sat again in the kitchen and wept. Seeing him, she covered him with a bunch of reprimands. "Where have you been? I told you not to stick around on the street! I told you! You make everything worse! Always I have to worry about you… always…"

"I didn't do anything… "

She did not listen, she only wanted someone to put her anger on, and right now Claude was the victim. As he tried simply to vanish, she grabbed him. "You STAY! Stay and do your shitty homework!"

She shoved him into his room and locked the door, not really knowing why. Perhaps because she was afraid to loose him like she had lost his father. Everything went out of control. There was never anything she could do about it…

…

Lennart looked through a hole in the warehouse-wall towards the railway. The noise, the wind carried over, told him that the investigations had begun. Probably dozens of police officers and specialists were browsing the area. The people in the pilgrimage train had been saved, however the course of events had to be analyzed, and it had to be made sure, that these released chemicals would harm no one of the nearby living people.

He sighed. This meant he had to stay in this hideout at least until tomorrow. At least, to pose as a poor homeless when he went on search for a doctor was not that bad. _Thanks, little one, for the idea…_ He moved back to the place behind the old barrel to lie down and wait. Perhaps he could find some sleep, too, but the pain drilling in different parts of his body nauseated him.

The wind ripped somewhere through the old construction and took a package of tattered old newspapers along. Lennart grabbed one, desperately searching for a little distraction, even if he wasn't that good in reading German. The newspaper was over a week old and soaked with mud. Only some of the texts were still readable. And one caught his attention immediately.

++ Woman jumps from Cologne Cathedral to raise money for dying child ++

_Some parents jump from cathedral towers, others… _He threw the paper away, feeling even sicker. _…Others manage to get themselves in the biggest fuck-up ever!_

He heard something and sat up again.

Someone calling his name?! Was he that delirious already?

_Holy crap! This boy again! Did he have no home or what?!_

"Hello, Lennart!" Claude shifted his weight under the obviously heavy backpack he wore.

"What do you want here again?"

"I'm coming with you! Wandering around, through the cities, to France, wherever!"

"What???"

"I run away; went through the window. I don't wanna go back to school again. Or… to Ma. I can play harmonica. Collect money from the people! Keep an eye on you when you are drunk so you do not fall into something. I really-"

"You REALLY can't come with me! Do you understand? You HAVE to go home!"

"But –"

Lennart pulled his gun. "Go!" _Why does he not run?_ "I said: GO!"

Claude's eyes went round like saucers, as he stared at the weapon. "Wow! Is this a real gun? Cool! You… you are no tramp, right? You are a… an agent on a secret mission?!"

"Yes, I'm on a secret mission." _If you want that, you get it, fellow!_ "You can't come with me, because it is too dangerous. Go home to your mom and into your bed!"

The boy looked disappointed, and Lennart felt compelled to add: "You know, little one, the most important thing for an agent to survive is to follow orders. Right now, I expect you to follow mine, okay?"

"Okay…"

"So, you go back now and don't be a pain in the ass for your Ma!"

"Will I see you again and will you tell me, how you have pissed off the bad guys?"

"I promise."

The boy smiled again proudly and took off.

Lennart sighed and leaned back against the wall. He could not be sure if it would work out that way! The boy probably would return, nonetheless. After all, Claude was only a child, and a curious one! That meant, he should better leave this place as soon as possible, the best in this night!

As darkness fell, Lennart stood up and stepped carefully through the trash towards one of the doors. He had nearly reached it as he stumbled across some rotted wooden planks fallen from the roof and lost his ground. In a vain attempt to catch himself he landed on his injured arm, cried in pain and lost consciousness.

**=== Next Day ==**

At the local police station of Weinheim, Kommissar Reibing filed through the already impressive reports concerning the incident with the pilgrimage train three days ago. Unbelievable, he thought. This was just like in a bad TV-show… Well, life tends to be worst than TV, this was one thing he had learned in his police career.

"Bruno?" One of his assistants poked his head through the office door. "The guys from the BKA (=Bundeskriminalamt / some sort of German FBI) are here!"

"Okay, I'm coming!" Silently, Bruno Reibing made a face. BKA meant many pompous asses, who knew everything better than he did! Nevertheless, it had been foreseeable that they would join the investigations, for this had been an act of international terrorism! He was only glad that the worst was averted and all the passengers on the train were safe! The material damage was immense, though, and there had been some dead! Terrorists were the meanest criminals of all…fanatics… ready to kill everything in their way…

Adjusting his uniform jacket Kommissar Reibing walked out to meet his colleagues.

After the obligatory greetings and smiles, they went straight into business. One of the BKA-men, a bulky redhead, put a laptop on the table and activated it. Reibing discerned the newest high-tech-design and made a silent note on the distribution of funds these times.

"Well… " the BKA-man started, "we have checked the evidences and asked some witnesses ourselves. We are sure; one of the delinquents could escape. If you would take a look? These are the identikit pictures of the terrorists. There were four of them, three men and a woman. So far only one of them could be identified…" He pointed at the picture of a white-haired man. "Piotr Jurek, sentenced in Slovenia for robbery and murder. On the run since 1999. The others are dark horses. However, we've found two corpses in the train, Jurek and this nice fellow here." The BKA-man showed another face. "According to the evidences given by the main witnesses, these Franciscan monks, there were two of the terrorists on the locomotive, when it was unhitched: the woman and this man. So far, so good. Brother Lasko told me, he had a rough fight on the roof of the train with him, AND he saw him picked up by a chopper…"

"Yes", Reiber cut in, unnerved by the display of his guests. "I know. The chopper went out of control, flew into the locomotive. Who ever was on it, did not survive the explosion."

The BKA-redhead grinned sourly and, as it seemed to Reiber, full of mercy. "We checked the debris with our most sensitive equipment, Kommissar", he replied. "We have identified remains belonging to this woman. We have found nothing, and I repeat absolutely NOTHING from this man. Not the slightest trace, except…"

"I'm all ears…"

"Except bloodstains on the embankment in this area here…" He called up another page on his laptop, this time with an aerial view of the incident's site, and zoomed in. "No corpse, I add again, Kommissar Reiber. And – if the man had died in the explosion, he could not have left bloodstains on the embankment, right? So, he is alive. We have to find him!"

-- tbc asap


	2. Chapter 2 Hunter and Prey

**=== Village Weinheim / Home of the Hofer-family ===**

"Ma! You have to come!" After a short – although forbidden - look into the warehouse, Claude had been running all the way up to his home, the last shabby house at the border of the village. "Please hurry! He is dying!"

Christina, standing in the bathroom and trying to wash her laundry by hand – which did not work out very well – shot a frustrated glance in Claude's direction. "What are you talking about?!"

"Lennart, Ma! He lies there and is not moving anymore! Please! You have to-"

"I have no time for your silly jokes right now!"

"It's not a joke!" The boy grabbed her arm. "He is a secret agent, Ma! And, he is injured! I met him in the old warehouse yesterday!"

Finally, Christina turned around. "I told you not to stick around in the railway area, Claude! It's a place for junkies and all sorts of criminals! In what mess are you again, he?" Many nasty scenarios raced through her mind. She kneeled down, looked her son into the eyes. "What have you done, Claude, tell me! Tell me now!"

"I have done nothing. Really, Ma! But Lennart… I think he's gonna die! Please help him!"

Christina sighed and straightened up. Seemed her son had a serious issue. Again, she sighed, wishing, there would be another person except her to take care for this little whirlwind. "Okay. So… there is a man in the warehouse and he is badly injured?" While asking, she thought silently that this mysterious 'agent' was a stinky homeless, without doubt. "Then we should call the ambulance or the police, don't you think?" She went over to the telephone. "I broke off my formation as a nurse 10 years ago!"

The boy jumped between her and the phone. "No! He said, no one must know he is there; because he is on a secret mission!"

Hearing this, Christina was almost sure she was about to do a stupid thing by helping her son's new 'friend'. The boy had a tendency to end up with back-street fellows… Nevertheless, she began searching for some things she might need, while asking more about those injuries of the stranger. At last, she put her celly in the pocket, just in case, and one of her kitchen knifes, also just in case. Then she followed Claude.

...

**===At the old warehouse in the railway area ===**

One look on the unconscious stranger was enough to tell Christina that this was all but a usual hobo. His cloths were filthy and tattered in many parts – however not in the way of a homeless living on the streets. The boots, trousers and vest were from high quality material. Moreover, the man's haircut was really, really too short to be a beggar's! Had Claude been right about this… agent thingie?! Christina put her bag down, and then attended to the stranger. She lifted him carefully up, turned him on his back and checked the pulse.

_Oh no… doesn't look good at all…_

"He said he had stumbled across something", Claude informed and watched what his mother was doing.

"Stumbled? No, he must have experienced a pretty nasty fall! From 4 meters high, at least, I suppose… Give me the flashlight!... No, hold it, so I can see something. Have to get these cloths off and-" Her words ended in an appalled cry. She just had discovered the weapon in the vest's holster. Her last contact with firearms was, when Claude's father Martin made 'fun' shooting around and being drunk… She fumbled after the cell phone, but was so shaky she let it slip.

Meanwhile, the stranger had regained consciousness, or at least, was on his way to it. He murmured something, tried to move. Before Christina knew what to do, her son (_curse his naivety_, she thought) crouched besides the man.

"Lennart? Do you hear me? I thought you are gonna die… my Ma is here, she will help you!"

What did the boy say? Lennart blinked, as always he needed some extra time to adjust to the foreign language before he could react. "No… ah… I'm okay…"

"You are far from 'okay', whoever you are", replied Christina, taking her cell phone up, but not letting the man out of sight. "I'm sure you have a concussion, you should definitely have an x-ray on your arm, your pulse is too fast, your temperature surely too high and – and I don't know what else. I'm no doctor."

"I assure you… I can handle that."

"Yes, looked exactly that way, when my son found you! – I'll call the Emergency Medical Service…"

"No!" Lennart was on his feet absolutely too fast and had to grasp one of the old concrete pillars supporting the roof, to keep himself up. "Please, it would ruin my mission. I have to stay undercover."

Claude beamed "as I said" all over his face. His mother paid no attention.

"Stay undercover and DIE, or what?" Why did she care, after all? No one cared for her…

"He can come with us, Ma!" Claude proposed now. "Have some days rest. Its nearly dark outside, no one will see us, when we walk home!"

Lennart calculated his odds and determined that perhaps this was not a bad idea after all. He felt awful; there was no other way to put it. One or two days to recover, something to eat and the possibility to make some inquests… perhaps getting access to a computer… This might be his only chance, in fact. As the boy pleaded again, the man managed a most innocent smile. "I know, these events must have scared and upset you, Madam…"

"Oh, Ma, please, you can't let him here in the cold! We have plenty of space! He can stay in my room!" Right now, Claude would have slept out in the rain, just to have Lennart and his supposedly huge treasure of adventure stories at home.

Christina's hand with the cell phone sank. "Okay. Two days. And: if you were out to steal something, MY home is the wrong place, there is nothing of value!" She threw her hair back and realized that she badly needed a drink after this excitement. Moreover, it was getting cold in the warehouse, indeed.

…

**=== Weinheim / Police station ===**

Since a couple of days, the little usually rather quiet police station of Weinheim had turned into a beehive of a military operation center. Makeshift tables and laptops stood everywhere in the already cramped building. The constant phone ringing and cell phone talking unnerved Kommissar Reiber more than he was willing to admit. Meanwhile, not only the BKA, but also the Bundespolizei (= national authority for border control and security) had joined the investigations. At the head of their little 'taskforce' was Polizeirat Katja Henning, Reibers personal nightmare of a woman…

…"Paul, we need warrant posters all over the area", Reiber was saying to one of his assistants, as Henning showed up. Without bothering herself with such minor issues as greeting, she took position in front of Reiber's desktop.

"I just wanted to notify you, Kommissar, that we have men on all railway stations nearby, on the main streets and all national and international airports of the region. The local authorities are informed, as are our colleagues in France. We have dog patrols all around in the forest. – So, what's the status of your warrant posters?"

"On their way." Reiber felt like a dumb child in her presence. "We have only a limited amount of resources."

"Then I should perhaps take over? – What about the doctors and hospitals, have you asked for any suspects there?"

"Yes, I have. So far, none has been seen fitting the description." He suppressed a yawn. He was already up since 4 o'clock in the morning, and now it was getting dark.

"Hm…hm…." Henning strolled through the office like a queen through her throne chamber. "We know that the fugitive is injured, and no one can simply vanish into thin air. Keep looking!"

"That's what I'm –" Reiber could not finish the sentence, because one of the BKA-men walked in, grinning happily and making Reiber's mood sink only further.

"Got it!" The BKA-man said. "Identification for our 'lost son'!" He handed a printout over.

"Found him while cross-referencing the international databases."

Kommissar Reiber regarded the man on the paper. The photo was older; nonetheless, it was the same man as described by the witnesses from the train, no doubt.

"…'_Lennart Marens'_, he read, _'Born 1964… South African Special Forces'_…uh…these guys are rumored to be amongst the real tough ones… _'Impeccable service record'_ – whatever that means under the circumstances… _'Dishonorable discharge in 1996 after the loss of two of his comrades in an unauthorized raid into Namibian territory'_… sounds impressive, this curriculum."

"Exactly", Henning cut in. "As I said, this man is a coldblooded killer. We have to be prepared for every possible situation."

_And you are his personal bloodhound… _Reiber added silently, his eyes again on the printout.

...

**=== Home of the Hofer-family ===**

Later in the night, Christina Hofer crouched in front of the TV, not paying attention to the umpteenth rerun of the old movie, but pondering with her Vodka bottle about this stranger in her house and the problems surely on their way. Had she not enough baggage to carry on her own? She really did not want to bother with another folk's problems! Moreover, she was sure the man lied to her. He was from France; this was what he had said to Claude? Oh no, she knew how French accent sounded, and this guy's was not French! It was… well, whatever… Why did she allow this man to sleep here? She must have been out of her mind…

Soon enough Christina had arrived in the middle of her pool of self-pity, as always when she had too much to drink. She felt like being on the end of a dark tunnel, however had neither strength nor impulse to move and do anything. What could she do anyway? There were debts to pay, the washing machine was on the fritz, and she could not find work – of course. The TV always aired the same shit, the bottle was empty, and her son dragged weird strangers along. Good-looking strangers… She drifted off.

...

When Lennart woke up, it was Saturday afternoon. The first instinctive reaction of alert went by as his memories returned. He was at Claude's home, and this was the boy's room. All the walls were decorated with pictures of cars, motorcycles and some heroes from pc-games. Over there, also stood an old timer of a computer. He tried to remember more and found a gap in his memory. _Dammit, I passed out again when they brought me into this room! Have the endurance of an old man! Time to retire in a senior's residence!_

At least he felt better now. The headache was gone and the dizziness, too. Instead he was hungry and thirsty. His gaze wandered over the splint and bandages protecting his left arm. _Good work. This woman seems to know what she is doing…_

However, he had to figure out what was going on outside, concerning the police operation. Perhaps they hadn't given up that easily. _Never underestimate your opponent,_ Lennart reminded himself wryly. Last time he did, cost him his career, his reputation and almost his life! He sat up, pushed the blanket aside and realized that he only wore his shorts. _Where is my weapon…?_

The door opened. Cautiously, Claude peered around the corner and then came in. "Hello! I already thought you would sleep two days!" The boy took a seat in his desktop chair. "How are you?"

"Not bad. How long was I out of business?"

"Uh, nearly a day. Ma has made your bandage. She is really good with such stuff, you know! She wanted to be a nurse, but she broke off because of me…"

"Where is your Ma now?"

"In the living room, sleeping too. In front of the tube. Just switched it off."

_Shit! Means I cannot go down and wat__ch the news! If there is any reportage about the attack on the train and the police investigations …_

"If you are hungry, I can microwave a pizza!" Claude grinned and pointed to the man's growling stomach.

"This would be a good idea, in fact. And… are they any cigarettes around here, by chance?"

"Yep! Leftovers by Dad. Gauloises, is that okay?"

"More than fine! … Thank you."

The boy ran out. _A good kid,_ Lennart thought, and a smart one, too. _I have to be careful not to loose his trust…_ His eyes rested on the computer again. _I need to do some research, dammit!_

…

Some minutes later, the man and the boy sat together again. Claude could finally unleash his plaguing curiosity! "How long have you been an agent? For whom? For the C.I.A.? Had they changed your past when you enlisted?" He had watched 'Men in Black' recently and was now stuffed with the gimmicks of this movie.

"No, not the C.I.A.", Lennart answered, chewing on his pizza and trying to build a suitable cover story out of nothing. "Interpol", he said in the end.

Claude's eyes beamed in anticipation. "You were on the tracks of these terrorists who had hijacked the train to Lourdes, right?!"

"What do you know about this incident?"

The boy sighed sadly. "Aw… nothing! Ma did not want that I go to the railway depot and watch the investigations! I could not browse the internet, because you were here in my room! But – I don't care! I'm glad you are here, and glad you're awake now! I waited the whole day! Please tell me about your missions! Have you made many car chases after the bad guys, Lennart?"

"No, actually not. You see, being an agent is not that an exciting adventure. Most time you sit around and wait. You plan for months and months and then you wait. In addition, in spite of all your meticulous planning, things go wrong. One minute you think you have everything under control and – bingo! – you sit in a bunch of crap up to your nose…" _Yeah, exactly the way it works, little one. _He leaned back and reached out to grab a Gauloise from the package.

Claude asked, "Can I have one, and do you show me how to smoke?"

"No. This kind of stuff kills you."

"But YOU do it!"

"I do many things you hopefully never will do!" He lightened the cigarette, inhaled and blew rings into the air.

"Have you ever killed someone?" Claude never got tired and yet found another thing to ask.

Lennart watched the boy and decided, a little bit of truth could not do any harm. "Yes, I have. I nearly got killed myself twice, too. If you are out there on the hunt for someone, it's either you shoot first or they."

Some minutes passed – surprisingly without new questions. Lennart closed his eyes, attempted to focus his mind on the pressing issues, more exactly, how he could get rid of the boy and on this computer.

…"Lennart?"

"Yes? I'm quite tired, excuse me please."

"Of course, I let you rest! My Ma always says I'm a gadfly… sorry." Claude walked over to the door and added: "I like you!" Then he was gone.

Lennart sighed frustrated. _Great! Just great! Exactly, what a criminal on the run wants to hear!_ He tried to gather enough strength to stand up and activate the computer, but fell asleep before he could put the thought into practice.


	3. Chapter 3 Closing in

**Chapter 3 "Closing in"**

**=== At the home of the Hofer's family ===**

Finally awake, Christina chose to do the awful laundry. She was on her way to the bathroom, when Claude came down from upstairs.

"So, how is our guest?"

"Better, Ma! He is really tough! I wanna be like him!" The boy jumped down the last view steps of the staircase and his mother thought she hadn't seen him that agitated for months. However, she was not sure if this was a good sign…

"Don't say stupid things, Claude! You don't know this guy. I don't know him. We don't even know if he is an… agent anyway! – Did you do your homework yet?"

"Hm… I started… - Of course he is an agent! An Interpol-agent! I asked him! He is hunting down these terrorists who have hijacked the train! Ma, do you think I can work for Interpol, too?"

She rolled her eyes. Her hangover began to manifestate in a nasty headache, and she was absolutely in no mood to listen to her son now. "If you do not your homework, you will stay down at school!"

Claude's joy and excitement had been hit by a serious blow. He sighed. He had browsed through the homework hours ago and figured out that he would not solve these tasks – again. Perhaps he would take the results from a comrade in school on Monday. He looked out of the window and decided to go playing football in the courtyard, while it was still light.

Meanwhile, his mother stood in the bathroom fighting against the stubborn laundry and thinking again about the stranger in their house. Was he indeed working for Interpol? A part of her – the realistic, frustrated by life part – did not believe it. Nonetheless, another part of her, in which still flowed the remains of a teenage curiosity and an excitement just as Claude displayed it, wanted to believe. Wanted desperately some miracle to happen, something great and unexpected, something helping her out of this miserable shitty life… Perhaps… if he WAS from Interpol, the agency would show her gratitude with a little money for rescuing the man …? At least enough for a new washing machine?

…

**=== Next day ===**

Morning again. It was still quiet in the house when Lennart woke up. He decided to try the old computer and stood up. Switching the 'relic' on, he sincerely hoped it would have an internet connection at all, even a slow one! Concerning his injuries, he felt relatively well. Only his broken arm hurt; he would need some Aspirin, for sure. But – first things first: Information!

Heavens! This damned thing still runs on Windows 98! … Ah… there's the internet connection… as expected, slow as a snail!

He would be lucky if he got any information out of this! He was used to have hightech – equipment; his sponsors had not been stingy with this kind of stuff! _An elite soldier with an elite task force needs elite equipment, ha! Fucking shit! _These weird monks had ruined his plans without ANY weapons and equipment! He searched for a news page on the internet. After sensed hours of waiting the site was finally on the screen. Lennart read the headlines and felt coldness grasping after him. The icy breath of final failure, of the end. The police operation was still running, and not only that, they were indeed searching for him! The whole region was put under alert, the border controls to France had been intensified, and … warrant posters with his face were everywhere! He swore again. _I should never have taken this god-damned mission! Should never have taken any of these god-damned missions at all!_ How was he supposed to escape this hunting party? Moreover, how long would it take 'til his friendly hosts would discover one of the warrant posters or see one of these news in TV? His original plan had been to go via France to Spain and there board a ship back to South Africa. He had dismissed this idea already still lying in the warehouse. There were his sponsors, who probably only waited to exterminate him in a rather nasty way, if he stepped out of the shadows! They would wait there in the first place, like a hungry spider, track him and grab him… So, back to the R.S.A. was not an option, as hard as it was to handle this particular reality! Lennart shoved the upcoming thoughts back into his mind. Sentimentality was nothing a man in his situation should have! He had voted for South America instead. But now…

The pain in his arm began to disturb him. He deactivated the computer. He leaned back, closed his eyes. _Think! I have to think! There HAS to be a hole to slip through! I managed to escape from the rebel's prison in Angola! I survived worst scenarios than this one! _After a while, he stood up and left the room in search for his clothing and first of all, his weapon.

**=== Weinheim Police Station ===**

„Gentlemen, I think we made a mistake, starting from the false presumptions."

Polizeirat Henning's voice sounded emotionless. The voice of a military leader in combat, Kommissar Reiber thought. Nonetheless he held it as a miracle that she aknowledged a mistake at all!

"…We are in pursuit of this terrorist subject for nearly five days and yet have found nothing. This is highly implausible, given the circumstances and evidences! He could not come THAT far without anyone noticing any suspicious movements anywhere. I think you'll agree, Kommissar Reiber?"

He only nodded.

"Therefore we have to assume he is not gone anywhere, but is still here in the close area of the incident. Moreover: here at Weinheim. He had to procure himself with drink, food and perhaps medication."

"May I interrupt you, Miss Henning?" asked Reiber. The Polizeirat gazed down at him as if he had pronounced something blasphemous. Reiber continued nevertheless. "I want to point out that we have no raids registered, neither into pharmacies nor ambulances, supermarkets, whatsoever. So – do you presume this man just walked in and bought the things and no one payed attention?"

"Perhaps", she replied icy. "However, this is only the second step of our inquiries. Right now, we have to make sure no one leaves this village without a proper control by my men."

"Sounds like you want to lay siege to Weinheim…" another local police officer murmered.

"I lay siege to a dangerous criminal", Henning corrected. "This meeting is closed! – Kommissar Leffler?" She had turned to one of her assistants. "I want another search party for the whole railroad area! With as much men as you can provide, with the best sniffer dogs! There might be gone much after the rain, but I am sure there is still something, we missed. They should check every stone, every blade of grass! I want his track! I want this man, understood?!"

When the other participants of the meeting had left the room, Kommissar Reiber walked over to Polizeirat Henning, who was about to call the BKA-team with her cell phone. Clearly not amused by the annoyance, she said: "What do you want?"

"This is not about bringing a fugitive terrorist to justice, isn't it, Miss Henning. It's about revenge… This is nothing we could indulge."

She raised her eyebrows. "You think you could lecture me how I have to do my job, or what?" With that, she spun around and left Reiber alone.

--

tbc next weekend!


	4. Chapter 4 On the Tracks

**Chapter 4**

**=== At home ===**

Christina had switched off the TV - not another special about this stupid pilgrimage train and these terrorists! She did not want to hear it. Why bother with these things? This was not her business… Why at all people developed deadly viruses without sufficient protection, so anyone could steal it? Obviously, the government had enough money for such shit, and she had none… Muttering some unfriendly words against the authorities she went into the kitchen - and let out a shocked cry as Lennart stood behind her. She had not heard him enter the room. "This gives me the creeps, you know!"

"I'm sorry, this was not my intention. I just wanted my cloths back. And my weapon. I would really appreciate, if you give it back to me. I'm not quite capable of defending myself without it, at the moment."

"Your cloths are still drying. And your weapon is safely under my guard, I assure you." Christina did not trust him, and the combination of someone she did not trust with a weapon was a thing she did not particularly like. The man gave her an undecipherable look. She turned away, nervously pulling her hair back. _Interpol-agent…_"Have you contacted your superiors yet?"

"Yes. They'll send me a new team to France. We'll meet there in a couple of days."

Christina found she still did not believe him, at least not entirely. She remembered again that this weird accent of his was certainly not French. However, she did not want the truth, either. For the moment, she blocked all the questions rising in her head. "You should visit a doctor."

"No, it is okay. An Aspirin will do it. Ah… and…. Do you have any roadmaps from France, by chance?"

Christina nodded and walked over to the cupboard to get the Aspirin. While doing this she remembered that she had to buy some groceries… She did not like the prospect of leaving this man alone in the house, though. Claude was in school until afternoon. But… leaving him alone with her son was perhaps not a good idea, either. The boy already was far too obsessed with his new 'friend'. She let two pills fall into Lennart's hand.

"Thank you …"

"Christina", she answered, virtually hitting herself. Why did she tell him her name?!

"Christina", he repeated.

For a second she thought to see a little smile on his face. But this might as well have been her imagination. "I'll find you some maps. I'm not sure these are the actual ones, but I have no other. I have no money to travel around, you know. I'm only…" She swallowed the last part of her self-pity-sentence. She did not want to make a great display of her misfortune in front of this unknown fellow! She rather wanted to be left alone right now. Perhaps he was mocking about her? Mister Interpol-agent…yeah, surely he was mocking about her, like all the villagers, who whispered behind her! And… they were right…On top of the road maps she now pulled out of a basket, there were staples of official letters, reminders to pay whatsoever….I need a drink, Christina thought, wishing she could forever forget this whole misery, and the man standing behind her on top of all.

**=== Meanwhile in the old warehouse and the Weinheim police station ===**

Ten people equipped with all sorts of high-tech search gears were browsing the area for hours now, as one of them cried out: "Found something, guys!" he pulled a small round item from the muddy ground and placed it into a plastic bag.

"What is it?"

"A coin." He went to the makeshift table near the entrance of the old warehouse, where a colleague sat on a Bluetooth-wired laptop. The little piece sparkled in the artificial light, as the finder turned it around and around under the lamp. "Not an Euro… Make a photo and transmit it to the central, Mike!"

…

"This is a South African Cent." Polizeirat Henning smiled triumphantly and looked in the round of the other officers. "Means, our wanted fugitive was there. We are on the right track. We have to search further from this point on. And we have to double the patrols. He cannot hide forever; he has to show up. Somewhere, somehow…" For an instance, her eyes were the ones of a dangerous predator. Then she made a gesture around and stood up. "Dismissed!"

Kommissar Reiber rested seated, along with one of his assistants. They both looked at the representation of the coin on the laptop screen.

"You seem somewhat lost, what is it?" The assistant asked and Reiber sighed. "I would like to… know more about this man", he said after a while, eyes still focused on the coin.

"Because the Polizeirat is so fanatically out to catch him?"

"Perhaps. … Perhaps because she is that fanatically at all", the Kommissar answered. "You know I don't like her." He grinned wryly. "This might cloud my judgment, after all. But I close my eyes, while Henning is speaking, and I hear exactly the kind of blind hate and fanatism I expect from a terrorist… I don't like this kind of speeches, neither from criminals nor their hunters. Much less from their hunters." He stood up and stretched his legs. "Ah, I should get some rest…" He walked out of the briefing room, in spite of his efforts not to do so, still musing about their enemy. What had happened to shape a ruthless terrorist from a man? What has to happen? Perhaps life needed only a few stones thrown in a man's way to deviate him…

…

**=== At home of the Hofer's family / Later the day ===**

It rained again. Claude's hair and jacket was totally soaked already, but he did not care. His mind was busy with other things. He had seen one of the warrant posters on the school door. Lennart a terrorist? This could not be true! He could not be one of the bad guys, this simply did not match! The longer he walked, the more the boy was convinced that the others - the police, the authorities - were totally wrong. They did not know Lennart, however HE did! First Claude had thought to run to the police station and just inform them about their error. Now, nearly at home, he had dismissed the idea. Perhaps the real terrorists had somehow bribed the police - he had seen such a thing recently in the tube. He would not hand his friend over! No, he had to help Lennart, protect him. Claude's paces went faster. He had to reach home, before his mom turned on the TV!

Finally at home he discovered the TV was off and his mother involved with the laundry. After a short hesitation, the boy pulled the antenna out of the device and stuck his chewing gum in between. Yes, this should work! He was proud. Then, he went cleaning the cat's litter box. The faster he would have done all this stuff, the sooner he was free to pay Lennart a visit again. There was still so much he wanted to know! But he decided not to tell about the posters. Surely, his friend already had enough to ponder, enough to worry!

…

It was past midnight. Christina could not sleep. Finding that the TV suffered from some weird disturbances - perhaps the provider had cut her off for not paying the fees - she went to the terrace. The air was cold; it was October in a few days, after all. There was still a little light in the room of her son, now occupied from her 'guest'. She went closer and peered through the open window and the small slit in the curtain. To her surprise she saw not only Lennart sitting there in front of one of her maps, but also Claude, lying on the bed and sleeping, still in his daytime cloths and shoes. The man murmured something, in his mother language it seemed, for it was not German and not English, too. His voice sounded frustrated. With an angry movement he pushed the map away and buried his face in his hands. Christina felt a strange familiarity towards him. She rested there in the dark and held her breath as Lennart stood up and made a few steps through the small room. He looked tired and was certainly in pain. Without knowing how this had sneaked in her mind, she suddenly wondered how he would look like in a James-Bond-suit and without this five-days-beard. No, he was handsome even now. The thought had fallen into her consciousness like the first snowflake in winter, unnoticed till it settled down on the face and melted. As she became aware of it, she slowly stepped back through the door into the house.

**=== Next day / Afternoon ===**

Christina had been standing in her room for a while, regarding herself in the mirror and thinking. So, this was it then: life? Sitting here in this village and waiting for the next unemployment pay, drinking, watching stupid things in the tube and seeing her son loose his tracks like his father did? Miserable, shitty life! She trudged through the room, run her fingers through the hair and sighed. Halfway in the direction to the remains of the yesterday opened liquor, Christina stopped and turned around again. _NO! Dammit, no! This is not LIFE! _She scowled angry in the mirror. There had to be more! She wanted more! Only one time, even if it would be only a short adventure, she wanted to have life at its fullest! Suddenly excited like a little girl before the first visit in the circus, she began to dig in her wardrobe.

…

Lennart sat near the window to the terrace and just stubbed out his third 'Gauloise' in the empty flower box. During the day, he had again filed through all available maps in this household and browsed the internet on Claude's computer in search for a possible way out. So far, he had found none. Not through the police blockade, the boy had described him… He lighted another cigarette.

Right now, someone knocked. Lennart sighed and opened. Christina showed up in the door – and caught him totally by surprise with her appearance alone. The woman standing there in a red summer dress and with decent make up had nearly nothing in common with the one he had met so far. Was there some sort of celebration in the village this evening? Would the boy go with her? Would be not that bad… He could need more time to browse the maps without anyone asking questions.

"Hello, what are you up to? Village dance?"

"No", she answered, sounding a little nervous and with that alarming him.

What the hell was going on? Had she informed someone? He looked out of the window in order to determine possible threats outside in the evening. There were only birds and a barking dog and loud techno music sounding from another house. As his glance arrived again in his nearer surroundings, Christina stood right next to him and smiled.

"I just thought, you might want to have some company. This is a beautiful evening, perhaps the last one this year. Don't you think that?"

_Heavens! She does not try to make a pass on me, or so? _Lennart began to feel more uncomfortable. "Wonderful evening, yes", he answered. "But starts getting cold."

"Then we should procure some warmth." She laid her right arm around him and smiled again, and a second later, her left hand was on his chest. In another time, under other circumstances, Lennart would not have said 'no', perhaps. However, these circumstances were not now. He was many things, but not the man to take advantage of a girl by using lies and false pretenses!

"Christina… look, I know, what you want and…" He had forgotten the cigarette, which had burned his fingers now. He swore, while throwing the butt down. Then he started anew: "Look, no offense… but I'm not interested."

Her face fell, but she couldn't decide yet if she should cry or spit at him. She had built up her courage for this one moment; she had been ready to virtually jump off the bridge into nowhere… and she had made a fool of herself! "I… I am just a … miserable, dumb village chick, and you can have better? That's what you think, isn't it?! An ugly village chick! What kind of girls do you bonk away, besides? Models from Paris?!"

_Shit! This is just the situation I need above all!_ She spun around, but he grabbed her hand and held her back. "And I did not say a word; you might be dumb or ugly! What I mean is, I am not the kind of guy you need in your life, believe me!"

"What do you know about my life? Or what I need? You are an asshole, Mister 'Interpol-Agent'!" She tried to get free.

Lennart held her firmly and she had no chance. "it is not that easy, Christina! Life is not a Bollywood Movie?"

"What this has to do with it? Are you trying to make philosophies right now, like my father?"

"Life is not a Bollywood Movie, where poor girls rescue injured agents, fall in love with them and live happily ever after! This is what I mean! Christina – no, don't say anything, hear me out! I am not an Interpol-agent. It's just the story I told Claude to silence him! Do you remember the incident with the pilgrimage train a week ago; the terrorists, who had stolen a deadly virus and endangered all those people aboard the train? In fact, they did only want to escape with their bounty. But everything went wrong, and they took the passengers hostage! I was the team leader! I am a criminal, Christina, do you understand? If anyone of the police knew I'm still alive, I would already rot in jail!" He let her hand go, feeling weak and exhausted all of a sudden.

Christina stood motionless between him and the terrace door.

"How could you do this to Claude?" she said then. "Simply show up and… and tell lies and –"

"I tried to survive, to escape! I TRIED to leave you all out of this!"

For some awkward moments, silence rested on the terrace.

"You are a member of the… Al Quaida?"

"I don't know what my sponsor works for. I was a mercenary, handling difficult operations… retrieving sensitive materials… such stuff."

Christina looked as if this confession was even worse then she had imagined it would be. "You did it for money?" She sounded disgusted and disappointed. Everything was falling apart, again. She wanted to run away and cry, but could not and stood there like frozen.

"Money is not such a bad thing, you have to admit", he answered. "I attempted to raise enough to pay a donor kidney on the black market and the transplantation for my daughter. She lies in a hospital in Pretoria. And… I will probably never ever see her again, because I cannot go back without getting a bullet in my head! So, don't YOU tell me life sucks!" Lennart had ended up shouting and Christina run out of the room, slamming the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 5 On the Edge

**Chapter 5 "On the edge"**

**=== Next Day ===**

Christina walked through the well known streets of her little village like in a trance. She had been on her way to the supermarket to buy some groceries - and in doing so focus her mind on other things than this awkward encounter last evening. _I have acted like one of these silly little girls in these soap operas; _she reprimanded herself over and over again. _What have I thought??? Cannot believe in what a mess I am again! I do not know a bit about this guy! … __A criminal, a terrorist… _Lennarts voice rang still through her ears. _I really do attract difficulties!_ What was she supposed to do now? Playing good citizen and going over to the police station, perhaps. Yes, might be reasonable to do that. However, Christina found herself not choosing the direction leading to the police station. And she found herself avoiding those omnipresent green-clad armed officers. What she could not hinder catching her views all the time were these damned warrant posters. Everywhere! They were everywhere all over the town. It felt a little like a ghost haunting her.

++250.000 Euros reward ++ It screamed from doors and walls. Christina had passed the supermarket without entering it, and she had not even noticed it. 250.000 Euros were an enormous sum… All her problems would be solved…She could move outta here with her son, start anew…

On the fundament of the knowledge to have Claude's adopted new father handed over to the police?! He would hate her for the rest of his life!

…"Hey, Madam, sorry, your passport please!"

She winced in the face of an armed police officer and realized that she had been walking nearly until the village's edge. In some way she felt like a child caught in doing something not allowed. She shivered while searching for her ID cart.

"So, where do you want to go?"

"Uh…I…think I got lost in my thoughts. I was on my way to the supermarket. Have some worries about my son, you know."

"Yes, kids are not always fun and sunshine, you're right! Anyway, have a nice day!"

…

**=== Meanwhile at home ===**

Lennart had spent half of the night thinking, planning and checking various options via the internet. It did not look promising at all. After what he had figured out so far, the police and some special units too had practically encircled this village. If he had a night vision gear and if he were in good shape, he would have tried to slip through via the railway depot area. However as the things were this time, he had absolutely no chance with such maneuvers. Another option had been the sewers. Only… regarding this high level military operation around him, the gutters were probably already sealed, or guards posted down there, or both. The situation reminded him of the check matches he loved to play against the computer. In former times when he still had the time for such luxuries. It had been exciting to outmatch the opponent with unexpected smart moves. Nevertheless, now he could not come up with a solution. Sometimes life was not a chess match, but more a poker game. He was about to loose and pay dearly…

The door opened. It was the boy with a huge cup of coffee in his hands and a sandwich.

„Thought you might wanna have somethin' for breakfast…" he said, cutting the bread into equal pieces.

"Claude?" Lennart crouched down and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I have to talk to you."

"Yes?"

"There is… something I did not tell you about me. Something… was not quite the way I told you. I have … done some… bad things…And I don't want you to… have a false picture of me. Do you understand?"

"In the pilgrimage train?" asked Claude and with that, totally threw the man a curve.

"You KNEW all this?"

The boy nodded and looked on his feet. "They had those tracing-pictures of you everywhere in the city, and on the doors of my school. 'Wanted for acts of terrorism'… I knew it since Monday."

"And… you didn't say anything?!"

"I don't want the police arresting you, Lennart! They already took my Dad!" Claude raised his head again, tried to fight the tears forming in his eyes, and not quite succeeding in it. "I don't want you to go away, in jail, forever! And at school they said… said if the police get's you, they'll sentence you with capital punishment!"

The frightened words of the boy made Lennart feel bad, very bad.

"Claude", he began in a low voice. "I am not your father. I cannot stay here. Whatever will happen, I cannot stay! You are a grown-up boy. You have to understand that!"

"Why?! We will hide you! I will defend you! I will –"

Lennart embraced him without saying anything and hold him for a while.

…

After checking the bandages of his arm, Lennart sat on his bed and still tried to focus his mind on his escape plans. But he could not find enough concentration. He didn't even notice the opening of the door and how Christina came in. "Sorry", she said. "I wanted to give you your weapon back." She placed the gun in front of him. "And…thought you might perhaps need yet another Aspirin?"

"Thanks. I'm fine." He did not look at her and nearly succeeded in denying her presence until she said: "So… you are from South Africa?"

"Yes. I grew up on a farm. Life seemed that simple those days. Plain and simple…"

"I only know some Safari-movies playing there. It's … it's weird…Uh.. sorry, I speak such silly things. I wanted to apologize. Because of what I said last evening. Your daughter. I'm… an idiot thinking only about myself…"

"It's not your fault." He wished she would go away. He did not want any company.

However, she walked over to him and put a slightly shaky hand on his shoulder. "I don't know what I would do, if Claude would be ill and I could not help him. It must be… horrible for you and… and his mother."

Lennart laughed; a reaction that scared her. She took a step back. "My ex-wife", he said now, "is probably relaxing on the beach of Twelve Apostles and tries to get tanned! The only horrible thing ever happened to her was her marriage to me! I caught her one day with our neighbor, having the fun she obviously missed with me… I did not see her once after the divorce. She did not even answer my call when Tessa came into the hospital."

"I'm …sorry", Christina said helpless.

"Do not. It is eight years ago, I'm over it." He grabbed the beer can, realized it was empty and threw it down, in an anger that clearly betrayed his words. He snorted and let his head fall in his hand, muttering "Shit, fucking shit!" Everything was screwed up, out of control – a thing he hated. He had calculated and planned, and yet here he was, his way out as narrow as an ant's path!

Christina touched him again, gently. "I… I just… wanted to say…I know how it feels if everything comes down on your head. And… I wanted to say, I don't care what you have done…in this train or elsewhere."

As he turned around to face her, her eyes shone in a mixture of childish defiance and very feminine passion. This was the attire of someone, who was ready to grab all she could get, no matter the consequences. "I still want you, Lennart. I don't care for tomorrow." Her fingers wandered caressing over his right arm, his neck, and then she leaned in to kiss him. "To hell with tomorrow," she whispered in his ear. "Life is now!"

For a moment, the mixture of feelings suddenly boiling up paralyzed him. Another thing out of control… He had no time for such things! This was crazy, nonsense! However, he had missed this kind of company so much. He did not even remember how much time had passed… Too much, obviously, because he reacted to her without even thinking anymore, while she began to undress him. He tried to open her shirt single-handed and failed.

"Just tear it!" Christina whispered. She did not want to wait a second longer to feel his fingers on her skin…

A moment later they embraced each other with a desperate hunger for oblivion.

…

As Lennart woke up, it was late in the morning. Rain smashed against the window. He looked at the woman next to him and felt a pang of guilt. As if his gaze had been a physical touch, Christina opened her eyes. She smiled a little uncertain and then whispered "Good morning."

He turned away and sat up. "I'm sorry."

"Because you've made sex to me?!"

"'Cause I came into your life at all!"

„I regret nothing. You made me feel… worthy again", she said, slowly embracing him again.

"I will help you!"

"You do not know what you are talking about", he replied harsher then wanted. "You are deep enough in this shit already, Christina! I don't want your ruined lifes or even your death at my hands, too! Helping me would bring you into prison as well because of co-conspiring! Moreover…" he stood up and paced a few frustrated steps back and for. "This won't work out, Christina! I will not make it, I know it. Whatever I may try, I cannot win against this police machinery! I only fool myself if I ponder about escaping… They'll grab me as soon as they catch a view of me, or they shoot me." Facing her again he added: "Worst: they find me here and this will make you and Claude problems! I have to leave, and I have to leave now!"

She was about to answer, when a sound startled them. Someone had turned the key in the entrance door. Christina jumped up, slipped into her undershirt and trousers, run downstairs. Who had a key? The question had just formed in her, as the answer already stood in the doorway: grey shirt, baggy trousers, shoulder long black hair. Claude's father Martin…

"W…what are you doing here?" she stammered. "You're… free again?"

"You do not sound very happy, do you?" He said, throwing his bag in the corner. "Is this the welcome I deserve, he, Chris?"

"I don't know what you deserve! You let me sit here alone with Claude!"

"Ah, are we up to a little fight?" He stepped closer, grabbed her arms. "Everything I did I did for you!"

"Aw… com'on! You did not spend a single thought on Claude and me! You stole and invested in drugs and booze!"

"So – I come home and have to hear preaching from you instead of getting a hug?!" He forced her into a kiss and she struggled to get free.

"Leave me alone! It is OVER!"

He raised his hand and slapped into her face. "You have become a little rebel while I was gone, eh? Its over when I say it's over!" He shoved her forward through the kitchen door to the staircase. "Now I want a real warm welcome from you!"

"Let me go! You hurt me!" she cried, attempting to push him back but failed. W_hat will he do if he discovers Lennart upstairs_, she thought panicking. "Come down! I'll give you a beer and something to eat and later-"

"SHUT UP!" He prodded her forward violently. "I want some fun with you, and I want it exactly NOW!"

…"You heard her. Leave her alone!"

The calm, nonetheless threatening voice sounding from above made Martin raise his head. Christina turned pale in seeing Lennart standing on the staircase. Martin's grip on her arm got even harder. She was too horrified to scream, though.

"So, that's it! You've invited a little distraction, Chris! Not very nice of you! I sat in this shitty hole and you had your fun! – And you pal, taking the opportunity to fuck my wife, eh? You'll regret that, I promise!"

"As far as I know, Christina is not your wife," Lennart answered. "She can do what she wants."

"Ahh… Mister smart-ass! I'll show you, who does what he wants!" He pushed Christina out of his way, and from one second to another he had a switchblade in his hand. "I'll slice you up!"

"Martin-"

"Shut up, you whore!" he cried angrily and stormed the first steps upstairs until he nearly collided with Lennart.

"You'll step back, and leave this house." The light of the floor lamp danced over the barrel of Lennarts gun, which pointed on the other man's chest now.

Martin was only impressed for a moment. "You want some trouble, smart-ass?!" he shouted then.

"I AM in so much trouble, that killing you would not make it much worse, believe me. So…?" Lennart took a step down – and the lamplight was perfectly on his face. Before he realized it, it was too late.

...


	6. Chapter 6 Before Dusk

**Chapter 6 "Before Dusk"**

Martin stumbled backwards, eyes wide open. "Ah… wait a minute! I've seen your bloody face somewhere! Yeah! I remember! 250.000 Euros reward!!!"

Lennart shot without any second guess, but missed, because Claude showed up in the door in exactly the wrong moment. Martin pushed the boy aside and stormed out.

"Ma, what's going on?"

She was glad that he had not recognized his father and gone after him, perhaps. To say something she was still too overwhelmed and shocked by the events.

"Worst case scenario", Lennart answered and lowered his gun with a sigh. "Shit! He will go and alarm the police! I have to go!" He checked the ammunition in his weapon. This damned bastard had cost him one of his precious last four bullets!

"Lennart!" Christina could finally speak again, as he was about to pass her with hasty steps. "No! Wait!"

"I can't! There's no more time! Tell the police I was trying to take you hostage, and –"

"Yeah! That's it!" Claude ran at his side, his eyes glowing. He wanted to help by all means. "You just need a hostage! No one will shoot at you, then! Take Mom and me!"

"I will come with you, Lennart", was all Christina said, with husky and shaky voice.

"What?! Are you both out of your mind?" Lennart sensed his emotions reaching its edge very fast. He had grabbed Claude on his shoulders, was about to shake him till he found his senses. "This is not one of your PC-games or TV-crap! It is fucking reality! There is police and special forces outside! They might injure you or even kill you just by accident! Don't you understand that, boy?!"

But then, looking into Claude's eyes, which were full of trust, and Christina's face, which showed a deadly and desperate will, another thought crossed his mind. This hostage thing might be crazy … hell, it was not only crazy, it was absolutely insane, the most risky, deadliest poker game he could imagine. However, it might also be the only chance to lift the suspicion of collaboration from Christina and her son… He took a deep breath, suddenly wishing he had a cigarette. "Okay", he decided. "We do it that way. But you will follow my orders, understood? Whatever will happen outside there, you will do as I say! – Christina, where is your phone? And the number of the police?"

**=== Weinheim / Police station ===**

The man who had walked into the police station displayed the demeanor of someone enjoying putting another person under the guillotine. He leaned on the desk of one of the officers and said with a broad grin: "Guys, today is my day, and do you know why? I know where your stinky fugitive terrorist is! Yeaaah… I can already see these beautiful 250.000 Euros reward…"

"Not that fast! Who are you, and where is HE?"

"My name is Martin Delaruelle, and the bastard is hiding in house 3 Adenauer Street. I really hope-"

The telephone rang and Kommissar Reiber took the call, silently cursing because he thought it was Polizeirat Henning again with yet another unnerving reprimand. Well, this time he was one little step -- A second later these rivalries were forgotten. Reiber shouted through the office: "It's him! Marens!" He switched to the speaker's system, and Lennart's voice filled the room:

+ I repeat: I have two hostages, a woman and a boy. I am armed. I demand a car, full tank, to the mainstreet crossing near the railway depot. Moreover: provisions, 9 mm - ammunition. And 500.000 Euro in small bills! You have three hours! Don't try any tricks, or the hostages will suffer!+ He hang up.

"Meyer, have you tracked that number?" The Kommissar asked one of his assistants. Now, he felt the adrenaline nearly explode in his body and he regretted the four cups of coffee already filled into his system.

The assistant from one of the other desks lifted a thumb. "Adenauer Street 3."

"As I said", came the voice of the grinning denunciant from the front desk. Before Reiber could answer anything, the rear door opened and Polizeirat Hennings marched in, already briefed via her own telephone link to the station's wire.

"So. He has taken hostages", she repeated and crossed her arms behind the back. "I have expected similar things. Kidnapping is always the last level before the breaking point. We have him, where we wanted him to be. He has betrayed himself. We will get him."

"I'm not sure about that… " The Kommissar answered. He simply had to throw some grains of sand at least in Henning's all cleaned up way! "…Not sure, if the breaking point of this man is already reached. So far, he seemed a very cool calculator. I don't want to take any risk with the hostages."

"Means you will provide him with what he demands, or what? I outrank you, and I have the right to dismiss you in this matter, Kommissar!"

Reiber stood up. "Means YOU will risk the lifes of the hostages?"

"If there is any collateral damage in hunting down a dangerous criminal and terrorist, then we have to accept it", the Polizeirat said icy. "This man had taken hostage a whole train and threatened with poisoning and killing all its passengers. If he succeeds in fleeing and going undercover, he will certainly harm and kill a lot more people! Don't you agree that the welfare of two hostages is a small thing compared with the damage which could be done?"

"What's your agenda, then?" Kommissar Reiber managed to say to his surprise without exploding.

"I have special forces at hand. Trained sharpshooters. They will take position around this house."

"I regret, Polizeirat. This is still my jurisdiction. And under my jurisdiction NO sniper takes position in front of a home of civilians. At least not till we have tried to negotiate! We are not at war yet! Perhaps it is time to remind you of that!"

"No. You are wrong. We are at war! We are at war since 9/11! I lost my sister there – she was just a tourist, just an innocent civilian, Kommissar! Our enemies do not divide into civilians and soldiers. Terrorists do not make this difference! They declared a war, and we should fight back. We have to fight back!"

"Yes we have, but on my terms. You have no authority here until you provide me with the respective orders from the Ministry of Inner Affairs. These are the regulations, Polizeirat Henning. And I play by the rules when it comes to life and death."

A moment passed in silence. Katja Henning only watched her collegue as if he was the enemy. "You will regret that, I promise", she hissed then. "I'll make you personal responsible if this subject escapes! If that happens, you can say good-bye to your career!"

**=== At home of the Hofer's family ===**

Christina had walked into the kitchen just to do something more than sit and wait and getting nervous. She was frightened, however not in the way she probably should. It was more excitement then fear. She felt like a prisoner suddenly freed from his chains and provided with the one and only option to escape. Escape into life and leave all the daily depression, the hopelessness behind in one last risky jump. And yes, she wanted to get out; she had waited long enough! Whatever would happen, she did not want to sink back in this bottomless black tunnel of frustration again!

Christina's fingers had closed around the Vodka-bottle standing in the fridge. She had lifted it out, opened it and now stared down on it. One moment later she smashed the bottle on the floor.

Lennart had been sitting on the staircase, trying to ignore the again growing pain in his left arm. _500.000 Euros… would it be enough to help Tessa? Given that I would make it at all…which was rather implausible._ Nearly 10 minutes had passed since his call to the police. _Dammit, this is absurd! An absolutely crazy idea, _he just thought again as the noise of the shattering glass reached him. "Christina?!" He got up, the weapon in his hand, and went over into the kitchen as well. "What's up?"

"Nothing…" She inhaled her breath, turned to him and repeated "Nothing." Then she went to get a cleaning-rag. Catching his view, she smiled. Moreover, he was about to smile back and only could restrain in the last moment. _Not good, not good at all! What do I think?! _ Lennart made two steps in her direction and then, from one second to another, had her pinned to the wall with a rapid move and his gun pointed at her head. "Stop smiling!"

Her eyes widened.

"This is a dangerous situation!" Lennart continued without shifting his threatening position. "I am a dangerous man! You think because you have slept with me you know me?! I could have done so and kill you nonetheless! I could be some sort of psycho; I could just freak out and shoot you!"

"I … trust you…" She whispered. "I know –"

"You know NOTHING, Christina! You do not know ME! Don't think on anything else! You must not trust me, or anyone else outside this house, till this is over! Anyone could freak out and kill you! Or your son!" He lowered his weapon and went to the drawer where the medication stuff was stored. A short check of the respective drawer told him, that the supply of Aspirin was gone. Damned pain! It became really mind-drilling again. With a sigh he turned to the window. The police had to be here very soon, he was sure of it… "Where is Claude, by the way?"

"I don't know."

"Search for him! I want him here with you and me in this room, and then lock the door. Supposedly the police will try to invade the house and overpower me by surprise."

**=== Weinheim Police Station ===**

„You ordered me to do some research on behalf of Marens' family background…" One of the police officers had entered Kommissar Reiber's office. "There was nearly nothing to find. Parents are dead, no siblings; he is divorced, and during the last four years he was only in South Africa for some weeks. No friends either – what friends a man like this should have, anyway? The only valid link I got was his daughter, lying in the Pretoria General Hospital."

"Good work. If there is a way to reach the mind of a kidnapper, the voice of a relative might be a very good medium. So, let's –"

"Sorry, Sir." The other officer spread his hands. "Might have been a way, yes. Unfortunately, it is no more. The girl died two days ago. Kidney failure."

"Crap…" Reiber murmured. Not only had they lost a precious link. No parent, the Kommissar thought, should outlive his children. This was a sad thing, regardless of what this man had done. He sighed and rose. "How is the status of the preparations?"

"The car is ready. The money should be here in an hour; I just spoke with the man responsible for the transfer. – What's with the BKA and the Bundespolizei? I heard, Polizeirat Henning is about to get the permission for her special assault team?"

"Don't remind me… With a little luck on our side we have finished this before she approaches with half of the armed forces! Let's move, then!" Reiber followed the officer outside and got in his car, ready to drive to Adenauer Street 3 with his little taskforce.

**=== At home of the Hofer's family ===**

Lennart peered cautiously through the closed curtains. Yes, there they were, he had been right after hearing the noise! At least four police cars he could see, and a transporter, which just let off his passengers. Armed and shielded, however not the special forces he knew were also already in the area of the village. Some of the police moved rapidly behind the house, others took position in supposedly non-exposed spots. An officer left his car and stepped in the direction of the frontdoor of the house, a megaphone in his hand. Soon, his voice reached the persons inside:

"Mister Marens, do you hear me? This is Kommissar Reiber. I am here to negotiate, so we can try to solve this situation without casualties!"

Lennart took Christina's cellphone and called the number he had used before. As expected he was connected with one of the officers outside shortly after, who gave the call to Reiber. "There will be no casualties, if you comply", was his answer.

"I have a car here as you demanded", the Kommissar informed now. "But I want to see, if the hostages are okay! Show us that they are fine!"

Lennart turned the head to Christina who stood right behind him with Claude. "Open the window, only a slit! And come in front of me!" A moment later the police outside could watch a boy tightly embraced by a woman, and a gun pointing at her head by a man resting behind her in the shadow.


	7. Chapter 7 Showdown

**Chapter 7 "Showdown"**

**=== Weinheim / Police Station ===**

Polizeirat Henning had just returned with the wanted permission to take over the operation. Discovering that Kommissar Reiber and his men already were on the site, she took a short briefing about the recent discoveries while she had been away, and then she headed outside again to her car. One of the BKA-officers ran after her.

"Wait! I got a call from our Interpol liaison from London! They've unveiled something interesting!"

"What could that possibly be?! Don't hold me back, time is of an essence!" she answered sharply and was about to enter her car.

"Polizeirat Henning! There are new orders! Priority orders!" The BKA-man placed himself in between of the car and the woman and handed over a printout. "The debris of the anti-aircraft-weaponry found in the train had the production number of a series stolen two years ago in Uzbekistan! SAM-7 from the same series were used by the recent Al-Quaida attacks and supposedly some raids of the Hamas against Israel. This is something big!"

"We know that already, don't we? I'm on my way to capture this terrorist!"

"That's exactly the point, Polizeirat! The Secretary just called and issued the order to get this man alive, with top priority! He might have valuable insight which helps to strike a lethal blow against international terrorism!"

_And they do really think he will talk?_ Henning thought with an angry amusement. _They have scums like this one in Guantanamo for years now, including the responsibles for 9/11, and they got nothing of value from them! _No, she had no reason to want this particular subject alive! She wanted him dead! Her personal little blow against international terrorism! "I'll inform Kommissar Reiber", she promised.

**=== Adenauer Street 3 ===**

Lennart peered out of the window again. Some minutes ago this police Kommissar had announced him that the money had arrived. Now it was his turn. He caught a view of tiny figures on the roof of the next house. _Shit. Snipers! _There were approximately 40 to 50 meters to cross to his car. The odds stood astronomical high against him. _Do not think about it! You have made it out of worst places in your fucking god-damned career! _He fumbled after the glass with water standing on the board and touched Christina's hand. _…but not with a woman and a child!_ He turned towards her without knowing what to say. They all had been tense and silent for the last hour, even Claude. _What an asshole I am to allow them into this?_ Lennart wondered again, he had forgotten how often already. He saw that Christina still was full of trust – and other dangerous emotions she should not have for him – despite his harsh words from an hour ago. These feelings obviously had taken root deeply in her. She could see behind his best and pompous display of 'dangerous guy'.

"It is time. We should go outside", he said, went to the door and unlocked it. It was silent in the floor. No sign of enemy intruders. They had not heard anything suspicious; he wanted to be cautious, though. Christina took Claude's hand. Now they stood directly behind the front door. She had walked through it so many times… in this instant she was afraid to even touch the old wood. She rested there like frozen. Lennart stepped at her side – and then, he followed the awkward impulse flaring up in him and kissed her.

…

Two emergency ambulances had arrived and Kommissar Reiber had sent a message to the headquarters for further reinforcements, just in case. He was still convinced he could negotiate with the kidnapper, the more, because Henning had thought not. He had filed again through the available personal data of this man. This was not one of the political inspired fanatics; this was a mercenary. A mercenary was not out to kill himself, but to survive! Moreover, a mercenary could be bought. It was only the question of the price…

Reiber sighed and looked around, a little nervous. The detachment of the special police forces had spread out on the roofs of the nearby buildings and behind other covers, and waited. He sincerely hoped they would not come into operation! This was a matter of pride for him now; to show 'bloodhound' Henning how good he and his local police could work in such cases!

This was, when Polizeirat Henning's car came into viewing range. Shortly after, the woman stood in front of Reiber. "I will take over from this point on", she declared and held a signed paper under his nose. "Retrieve your men!"

"Excuse me? We are right in the middle of the operation, if you have not noticed it, Frau Polizeirat."

"I have, but this is no longer part of your jurisdiction."

"Maybe not. But unless you are willing to risk every chance of success right now, I suggest we work with combined forces at least, and you let me continue with my plan."

"With your… negotiations", she defined sarcastically. "Be assured, I have already briefed my GSG 9-men to rescue the situation!"

Reiber wanted to reply something, however at this moment, one of his officers gave the signal that the entrance door of the house had been opened. First, a boy appeared, then a young woman in the grip of the kidnapper. The Kommissar discerned that the man had a bandaged left arm – an option more in favor of the hostages. They might even be able to break free…

…

Martin Delaruelle had already several drinks – to celebrate his new-won money and his freedom – as he was underway to Adenauer-street 3 to watch this son of a bitch die, who had messed around with his girl. Of course, there were many spectators, as always and of course there was a tight police blockade. He pushed some of the people aside, until he could see something. Yes, there he was; this piece of shit, with Christina and Claude! This was more than Martins woozy mind could handle. "Leave your fingers from MY SON!" he yelled, storming ahead against the blocking police guards. Totally surprised by the assault from behind, one of the officers, a young woman, lost ground. Martin grabbed her weapon without another thought and jumped through the gap in the blockade, before the officers could get a hold on him.

"Leave my son alone, do you hear me?" Martin raised his gun, pointed at Lennart, Christina and Claude.

Kommissar Reiber shoved his assistant and another officer aside, stepped forward. "Stop!" He cried, spreading his arms in the direction of his men as well as Martin. "Step back! Do you hear me? You are endangering the life of the hostages! Let the police handle the situation!"

"Fuck the police! I don't care about this whore, I want my son!" Martin turned again to Lennart. "NOW! Or I blow your head off!"

"Step back!" Reiber shouted again. "We have you on target!" _Holy crap! What has this idiot in mind, after all? _

Lennart stood motionless, Christina clasped against his chest and his own weapon on her temple. Her cold hands clutched around the shoulders of the boy.

"Ma? Ma, this is Dad!" Claude whispered now and added a huge amount of panic to the thoughts of his mother.

"Keep still, please", she answered, sensing her teeth chatter together. "Please, Claude, do not move, please…"

"Claude, come over to me!" Martin demanded, his gun still roughly targeting Lennart and Christina.

Seeing the threatening barrel and knowing all too well the boiling emotions behind it, Christina felt suddenly that weak she thought she would faint. Everything began to fade… to spin around her. She was afraid, so afraid! Pressed against Lennart, she sensed his heart racing. This was a nightmare… the worst nightmare ever…heavens, if she could only wake up and…

"Step forward, slowly!" Lennart's voice was barely audible in her ear.

While she was still trying to compell her body to move, everything happened all at once. With a roar, Martin shot. "Dad! NO!" Claude broke away from his mothers grip. A second shot. The boy twitched sidewards with a painful cry, in which mingled Christina's own horrified scream. Then another shot, this time from Lennart, and yet another, piercing Martin's chest. Groaning, he fell to the ground.

Lennart could see that Claude wasn't seriously injured, but the boy was in shock, as was his mother. She trembled and tears ran over her face. Lennart lowered her down, the weapon now pointing at the police officers in front of them.

The police had watched helplessly. Kommissar Reiber stared at the scene, and a fact slowly sunk into his mind. "Have you seen that, Johansen!" he whispered in the direction of his assistant. The face of the other officer clearly stated his ignorance and Reiber formulated more specific what had crossed his mind: "He has protected his hostages! Don't you get it?! Look!" The Kommissar stretched his hand towards the middle of the road.

"Step over to the left", Lennart ordered Christina with low voice. "Take Claude and get away from me!" He did not even know if she had understood him at all. Anyway, she was not moving. Slowly, he retreated from her and the boy, not leaving Kommissar Reiber out of his weapon's focus.

Still amazed about the change of this hostage situation, the Kommissar regarded the man approaching with cautious but steady paces. "Mister Marens, hear me out", he began. "You have no chance to succeed. All the streets are blocked; the airports are flooded with police. If you get into this car, you are as good as dead. Why throwing your life away? You are not the kind of person to sacrifice himself for other's ambitions. You are no suicide killer…"

"Open the car door!" Lennart simply demanded, further closing in. "Or I shoot!"

Reiber started sweating. However, he continued speaking. "You let your hostages go. Other men would not have cared so much about their hostage's life."

"Open the door!"

"Life is a precious thing. Don't you think that too, Mister Marens?"

"My life is of absolutely no importance!"

The Kommissar was about to feel a small relief, that his opponent seemed to start a conversation at least. Nonetheless, before he could mouth any other word, Polizeirat Henning had chimed in: "Your life has no importance, Mister Marens?" her crispy voice sounded over the place. "Which life, then? Your daughter's? She is dead! Do you hear me?!"

Reiber could not believe what he just witnessed! What Henning was doing, was the easiest way to maneuver the whole situation out of control, to let it escalate in bloodshed! "What are you up to, dammit?!" he spat in her direction.

Of course, she did not react in the slightest way. Her gaze was fixed on Marens, whose features were of a painstakingly gathered control, cut in stone and yet only a thin crust over a volcano before the eruption.

"Your daughter is dead", Henning repeated. "She died two days ago."

Now the volcano erupted. "You're a BLOODY LIAR!" Lennart shouted. His gun moved away, now in Henning's direction.

Reiber wiped his face. _Was it that, what you want_, he mused, feeling suddenly very cold inside. _Provoke him, so your guys can shoot him in self defense?! I will be damned, if I tolerate this! _ "Mister Marens!" he cried and wished he could do something to let Polizeirat Henning vanish from the scene. "It is true, you daughter is dead." Hands raised, he stepped forward, in between of Henning's sharpshooters – he hoped at least – and Lennart, ignoring the demands to get out of the way. "However, this is no motive to follow her!"

"Go back to the car! Open the door!!!"

Kommissar Reiber halted. "Surrender! It is your only option!"

"OPEN THE DOOR!" Lennart fired one shot at Reiber's feet. "MOVE!"

From the corner of his eye, the Kommissar could see Mrs. Hofer and her son. Medics attended to him. Nevertheless, the woman's glare was on Lennart, full of fear, pain and desperation. _Heavens, she fears FOR him! _Whatever had happened between the two of them, it was obviously more than a simple hostage situation… Reiber decided to take the risk. He took a deep breath and turned his head towards Christina. "Surrender! Do it for her!"

The words hovered in the air. Lennart stared at Christina, then at the Kommissar. _Yes,_ he thought, _I'll do it for her…_With it he aimed again, smiled and pulled the trigger back.

The same moment, he was hit himself. The weapon slipped out of his hand. Everything seemed suspended, trapped in slow motion, as the pain exploded in his body. Then the world faded into blackness. He could not even scream anymore.

…

Contrary to Christina, whose cries pierced the air. She tried to struggle free from the police officer, who held her back. "Let me go! Let me go to him!!! Let me go, damned bastards! Let me go!!!"

Kommissar Reiber lifted his eyes from the body and the blood on the ground and turned to Polizeirat Henning. "There you have it, your revenge! Be proud of that! Good job!" He felt sick, the first time in his long service in the police. She answered nothing.

With a plastic sheet, one of Reiber's colleagues had carefully picked up Lennarts weapon and now was about to secure it. "It was… empty, Sir", he realized surprised.

The Kommissar nodded silently. "He knew it. He perfectly knew it, I'm sure about it."

"So… this maniac just wanted us to kill him?!"

Reiber's gaze rested on the crying, weeping woman in the arms of the police officer. _No_, he answered in his mind, _he just tried to protect these two people from prosecution via the only possibility he still had… _Facing his colleague again, he said openly: "Criminal or not – this was one of the bravest men I ever got to know."

....

(NOTE OF THE AUTHOR: this was the original end. But, because some people were really sad I decided to make a "director's cut" and write two more chapters)


	8. Chapter 8 The Truth

**=== Saarbrücken / One year later ===**

Christina walked along the street. She had missed the bus, but did not regret it. It was better to walk, to move – sitting somewhere left her far too much time to think. Then, she was afraid to loose her tightly bond control which helped her to move on day by day.

Move on…

She braced herself against the cold winter breeze and marched faster. Sometimes all she wanted was to fall down and cry. But she could not allow herself falling again and being chained to the walls of the dark prison of hopelessness and frustration. She had to move on! For Claude, and for the other precious gift she was about to pick up from a friend.

Leon…

The thought of her little baby son made Christina smile, even if the lines of sorrow did not completely vanish from her face. She had left Weinheim as soon as she had discovered her pregnancy. More chatting and whispering of the people in the village was nothing she had wanted! For Claude had inherited the 250.000 Euros reward ransacked by his father (_Asshole_, Christina added, after all he had tried to kill her and had hurt Claude!) the move to Saarbrücken was easily to manage. She had even succeeded in finishing her formation as a nurse and passed the exam, only a week before Leon's birth. In the last second, so to speak!

Little Leon… He had Lennart's eyes: a rare grey-green with golden sparkles in it, and long, dark lashes. She wondered how much more the child would remind her of Lennart once he was grown up. Moreover, she wondered what she should tell him then. That she had only known his father for a couple of days, that he had been a criminal and been shot by the police? It was the truth… and yet…

One of the cars hooted from behind.

_My god! Can't these guys just wait one minute? Always these crazy races till the next traffic light! Idiots!_

Christina's gaze fell on an old wet newspaper on the walkway. The headlines screamed something about "Success in fight against terrorism" and "Al-Quaida-leaders arrested". Well, not the kind of stuff she was interested in! The obviously nervous driver hooted again. She rolled her eyes and checked her watch. _Should better hurry a bit! Susan wants to go to the cinema, and surely not with my son! _

Aw… of course! Traffic light went red in front of her! Hooting again. It was the driver in this big black BMW, perhaps one of these stressed managers on the way to a meeting.

"Mrs. Hofer?"

Startled, Christina turned her head in the direction of the call. The window of the car had been lowered and a man gestured in her direction. "Would you board, please?" Saying this, he showed her an ID with the sign of the BKA. Christina felt her throat become dry. _Claude…_ she imagined. _He has done something! Oh, shit… _The boy had some difficulties in the new school - she knew that. A moment she mused about running away, but this would not help. The traffic light changed to green. The black Limousine set in motion. "Mrs. Hofer, please!" The rear door opened and she followed the invitation with shaky legs. The glass of the windows was tinted black; it was quite dark inside and she really felt not good. But before her eyes could discern anything, a voice reached her: "Christina!"

She held her breath. Was she on the brink of insanity or what kind of sick joke was that? Or… a test?! The next second, her hand was on the door locker – however, the car was too fast now to jump off. Then she could see more in the twilight shadows, and simultaneously, a hand grabbed hers. She froze. On the backseat was Lennart, looking thinner than she remembered him, but… definitely alive! Still more convinced to be in a weird dream, than this was real, she reached out to touch his face. "This… this… cannot be…you are… dead!"

"I went through hell", he said calmly. "But I suppose, the devil was not yet ready to keep me there."

"I…I SAW you shot!" She trembled.

"They used some sort of special ammunition, which put me in neuro-muscular shock and knocked me out."

"And the blood?"

"Only artificial stuff… don't know how they did it exactly. Only to make it look real for the bystanders and the press. I'm no ghost, Christina!" He embraced her. "I woke up in high security detention somewhere in Southern Germany. They made it quite clear that either I would cooperate, or they would make me cooperate. Should I choose the first option, they promised me amnesty and a new identity… I had no particular reason to protect my sponsors, they would have let me killed anyway after this, so it was not that a hard choice to make." _Nonetheless…a few of the smart fellows there were convinced that I lied to them, or at least, would not mind, if I died by 'accident' … after they had drilled everything useful out of me…_ But this was nothing he wanted to talk about. Not yet, at least.

Christina could not speak. She held him tightly and just wept. The car rode on.

"Where do we go?" she finally asked.

The driver answered her. "To the airport hotel. We were on our way to pick you up at your home, but this is redundant now."

"W…wait a minute! You guys have monitored me all these months?" She felt violated. She had thought to vanish in the big city, and now 'Big Brother' had been watching all the time?!

"Of course. It is standard security precaution, Mrs. Hofer. In fact, you could have been a sleeper agent or made contact with certain circles. Now, if you would buckle up, please? We don't want to risk a ticket, don't we?"

Everything begun to swivel around in Christina's head. Lennart had been alive all those months, and those shitty police watched her suffer and grovel forward?! She turned her gaze up to Lennart. "Did you… know this?"

He shook his head. "I got no information whatsoever about the things going on outside. I had only to deliver information. One of the officers told me yesterday, just by mistake, I suppose, because I heard the reprimands following his comment. I insisted on seeing you…"

"You insisted?"

In the dark back of the car, Christina could see the hint of a smile on his lips. "I had enough, I was so tired. I said, either you snuff me out right now, or you let me talk to her."

"This is… so crazy… ", was all she could manage at this moment. Then she remembered her son and her waiting friend. She reached out to the driver. "Stop! I have to pick up Leon! Do you hear me? My son is waiting for me! I told my friend I will be there by 5, and now its nearly half past!"

Hearing this, Lennart felt guilty and a little silly, too. Christina had a new family, built a new life. And he had just burst in and was about to screw it up again! Suddenly he wished the officer, who he had asked yesterday to give him the opportunity to see Christina, had been less inclining and simply shot him instead… While she spoke with the driver, he searched for something to say. He heard himself mutter words like "Leave, go to your family."

An awkward long moment passed, until the things SHE said reached his mind. What?! HIS son? Did she just say the baby was his?! Yes, she did, and she smiled again.

_My child?_ He covered the face with his hands, desperately trying to put his mind in order. "I have never …" _Shit..._ He felt that he should say other things, but was not able to even think clearly anymore.

Then, the car came to a halt and the driver turned around. "You can leave here, Mrs. Hofer, it's the next crossroad. But remember, do not tell anyone about all this. Do you understand? It is highly important."

"Y…yes. Yes, of course", she stammered and opened the car's door. Whom should she tell this hell of stuff anyway?! No one here in Saarbrücken knew about Lennart; and if she now walked around and talked about returning dead, surely a concerned citizen would call the ambulance! "But… how will I find you again?" She did not want to go; nonetheless, there was no other option at the moment.

Lennart still sat there saying nothing. The driver from the BKA stepped in: "We check him in at the Airport Hotel as Mister Paul Dekker."

A minute later the black car was gone and Christina stood alone on the walkway, again this feeling of unreality in her head. Had this happen at all? The bells of the nearby church began to ring. _Leon! _She run towards the house, where she and her friend Susan lived on different floors. As expected, Susan was already dressed to leave her flat, and was a little nervous. "Sorry!" Christina said, "There was an accident, and the bus didn't come and… you know…"

"Okay, doesn't matter! I'm only in a hurry now!" Susan lifted the bassinet up and handed it over. Little Leon smiled and giggled. "Bye, see you then!" And she vanished in the elevator.

Christina followed her shortly after, with Leon in her arms. Her emotions and thoughts were still so mixed up that she chose the wrong floor first. Claude would also be at home, now. She did not know what or how she could tell him… And Lennart? He seemed rather scared… For a long time once again she thought about permitting herself a glass of alcohol… However, she had nothing in her apartment. From far already she could hear Claude's new favourite music, some Gangster-Rap. She did not like it at all, but was content if it only kept with music…

**=== Weinheim / Police Station ===**

…"Thank you, I know my way."

Kommissar Reiber discerned the particular voice pattern and sighed. Polizeirat Katja Henning was not exactly the person he wanted to see. He leaned back in his chair while she walked into his office and said "Good Morning. What's the purpose of your visit, if I may ask?"

"I get that you are still angry because the charges against me were dropped?"

"I did not assume to attain your removal from office anyway", he retorted.

"Let us bury this, Kommissar. You know, I spoke with the Headquarter in Saarbrücken. About a promotion for you."

"I don't believe it! You think you could buy my benevolence?! You have clearly showed your incompetence in this case a year ago! You were set out to kill Marens and you achieved it! And do NOT tell me anything about self-defence!" He nearly broke the pencil in his fingers.

"No, I won't. I am very sincere in this matter, Kommissar Reiber. I thought of a reward for your excellent behaviour in this operation."

"You are kidding!" His anger began settling in his stomach and causing a nasty pyrosis.

"Absolutely not. Have you read the newspapers lately? The major blow against Al-Quaida? You helped us to perform this. Marens gave us the right position to dig further and we managed to uncover a whole network. His sponsor was a well known intermediary for all kind of terrorist transactions."

"What are you trying to say?" He asked, his suspicions rising.

"That you should stop whining about my incompetence and the death of this man, because we fly him out to New Zealand safe and sound tomorrow morning."

Silence.

"So, this was just a hoax, Polizeirat Henning?"

"It was a necessary operation", she replied.

"Necessary to get this man out of the legal system, to question and torture him without any restraints, because a dead man has no rights?"

"Don't be pathetic, Kommissar. He is a terrorist. Terrorists have themselves put aside from the legal system by their deeds alone."

"You know what? This sounds like the Medieval Inquisition!"

"I say you something." Henning turned around to face him with all regal disdain she could muster. "I had my orders. This man was lucky, very lucky that this was the case, because I would rather have seen him dead, indeed! However, Interpol and the International Anti-Terror Commission cherished the idea Marens could prove of value. And, I repeat, fortunate for him, he did."

Kommissar Reiber was not convinced. He liked this theory of the events even less than the one he had believed in so far. "You could have told me about your plans!"

"It was no time. The way the situation was, it was far better for you to know nothing at all. Now, the file is closed. And you, Kommissar, can either choose the promotion or not. I do not care. Have a good day." She stalked out of the office.


	9. Chapter 9 Decisions

(Note: as for he sequences in Afrikaans – I used google translator. Hope it is right, I do not speak this language, but liked a little 'authenticity' here…native speakers please excuse or inform me, thx!)

**=== Saarbrücken / Airport Hotel ===**

Lennart sat on the bed in his room and lightened yet another cigarette, while thinking that he really should stop smoking that much. _Don't want THIS killing me after I survived all these other situations… _His mind wandered to Christina and Claude and … and Leon. _My son. _He felt not quite up to it. Had he not already failed in Tessa's case? When he had heard about Christina yesterday, he had only wanted to meet her, thank her and assure her he was alive and … relatively 'well'. He had dreamt no fancy fantasies of a 'happy family' or whatsoever. _I'm not the right guy for that. Never was… Surely I cannot found a family now! I'm Nothing, a man with a constructed past; on the way to God knows what_, he said silently to himself, while staring out of the window in the night.

Unfortunately, this choice was not his anymore. There was no question of founding a family. He already had done so!

_What a mess did you leave behind again?! What did you THINK, you damned idiot?_

Lennart opened the window and savoured the cold winter air. Some snowflakes danced down from the sky. Yes, Christmas was near, he recalled now, without any particular emotion to the subject. These sorts of celebrations were stuff for little kids, who had not yet peered behind the curtain of false morality and show…

He remembered the events of last year in Weinheim. Was there even a little chance it could work out with Christina, he wondered. They had met under the worst possible circumstances. They did not really know each other. They… - Hell it could NOT work out! He was no 17-year-old college boy. He had seen far too much to believe in happy endings!

Someone knocked. The voice sounding to Lennart the same time notified him, that it was Christina. He shut the window and opened the door of the room. Not only Christina, but also Claude – really grown up during the last year – was standing there. In the bassinet at the woman's side was a cuddled-up baby, now waking up and starting to sniff.

"This is Leon. He is just a little tired" she commented and smiled uncertain. Claude was obviously nearly exploding out of curiosity.

"Hello. Please, enter", Lennart said. "I am glad you came." It sounded silly and hollow. He could not find anything else to say, though.

The door had hardly been closed, as Claude burst out: "Lennart, I KNEW you couldn't be dead! I knew it! What happened?"

"Let's say, I made … a little deal with the police, eh?" He padded the boy on the shoulder and Claude beamed.

"That's cool! You will stay with us now, will you?"

At this moment, little Leon began to cry and saved Lennart the answer.

Christina had put the bassinet on the bed and lifted the baby out of it. "As I said, he is only tired. Normally, he sleeps by now…"

Lennart watched the child and his mother, felt fear and warmth and a whirlwind of other emotions altogether sweeping through him. Slowly, he stepped closer, reached out and caressed the cheek of the baby. The face looked so tiny compared to his large hand…

"Hello…nie huil, my seun", the man whispered.

Diverted by the touch, Leon stopped crying indeed and regarded the unfamiliar man above him with round, wide-open eyes. Then the baby tried to grab one finger of the stranger's hand.

"Seems you have won his heart." Christina smiled. She felt happy, safe and secure at this moment, just like Leon. She wanted to say something, but decided she needed a little bit of privacy first – some minutes without Claude's over boarding curiosity.

"Claude, why don't you go down in the restaurant for an ice-cream? Lennart and I have something to talk about." She searched for money and gave him 20 Euros.

"Okay! Thanks, Ma!" He ran out of the room.

Nonetheless, now Christina did not know where to start at all with the things she had in mind. Lennart kneeled beside the bed, totally absorbed by the big grey-green eyes of the baby. Leon watched his father with all the serenity of such a little child. Then, all of a sudden, he fell asleep. Lennart stood up and walked aside in order not to disturb and wake the baby again.

"It must have been difficult for you with him and Claude alone", he said with low voice to Christina. "I'm sorry for my carelessness. I guess, I should have known better and –"

"Leon saved me, Lennart. Quite literally. I was… very sick, after I thought the police had killed you. They even brought me to a mental hospital and sent Claude into a children's home. I could not stop crying. I tried … I tried to kill myself once. When my pregnancy was discovered, I heard the doctors speak about abortion, and this was the turning point. I wanted the child; I wanted to live for this little one! From this on, I gathered all my strength to move forward and hinder me from looking back. I left Weinheim and moved here."

"You are… a very strong woman, do you know that?"

"No, I'm only crazy." Not sure if she should laugh or cry, she did both, before she confessed, "I love you. I may have lost my mind, but I don't care. I love you. I promised last year that I would come with you. I still will do that."

He embraced her, stroke gently over her face and put the loose hair back. "Christina… I can't bury my past that easily." He smiled weakly. "Or better, the past won't let me slip away 'with kind regards'. I'm willing to try, but I do not know if trying is sufficient. Sufficient for you, for Claude, and for him." He made a gesture to the sleeping baby. "Lennart Marens may be officially dead, however his memories are not! You do not understand half of the things I have done in my life! How could I face my son and tell him one day? And I don't want Leon growing up wrapped in lies, either."

"We could gather new memories, together!" she answered, looking up to him. "When Leon is old enough, we tell him the ancient ones. He will understand."

He held Christina now closely, listened to the sound of her breath. _Perhaps… _

Perhaps she was right. If the little one had the same wide heart and trust as his mother… Did she even know how precious this was? She thought of herself as weak and crazy, nonetheless, he considered her stronger than he ever had been in all the time of his soldier's life. No, he decided, 'trying' was surely not enough for their future! He simply had to MAKE it work out! He bowed down and kissed her on the front and then on the mouth.

"Ek is lief vir jou…"

"I hope this was not something nasty, what you just said…" Her eyes sparkled in a youthful happiness.

"What do you think?"

They afforded themselves some minutes just to let their minds flow without any sorrow.

Then Lennart let her go. "I have to leave this country tomorrow morning", he said, sternly again. "Everything has been arranged for me. I cannot stay longer, even for some hours. You will have to follow me later. So… you still have some time to think about it."

"There is nothing to ponder anymore. Nothing I would not gladly leave behind! As for Claude – he will have a rough time with a new school again and new language, for sure. But, he needs you more than the daily routine here! We will come, as soon as I have all things arranged."

THE END

(hope, everyone is happy now ;))


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